


Shameless

by sophiaRLJ



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bill Denbrough Loves Stanley Uris, Bill and Stan are kinda toxic, Bisexual Bill Denbrough, Brief stan and richie, Gay, Gay Stanley Uris, Inspired by Shameless (US), M/M, Minor Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Other losers only vaguely mentioned, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Sad Stanley Uris, Toxic Gays, violent stanley uris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 03:43:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20790053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiaRLJ/pseuds/sophiaRLJ
Summary: “Kiss me and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out,” a voice spat. In one swift movement, Stan shoved Bill down and pressed him to the floor. Bill didn’t listen, instead, the pad of his thumb traced along the jawline of the boy who sat stiffly on top of him.Stan didn’t respond to that, instead, he brought their mouths together. Their lips collided in sync, it was slow and open-mouthed. Stan yelled at himself that this was wrong but he couldn’t pull away. Stanley hesitated, nearly tearing away but the pleasant unfamiliarity of Bill’s tongue parting his lips drew him back in. After lazily making out Stan pulled away, resting their foreheads together afterward.





	Shameless

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is but it's mostly based on Ian and Mickey's relationship (sort of) on shameless. (From like season three or two) *WARNING* abuse, I'm not trying to romanticize this in any way this is simply based off of a certain scene in Shameless.

December 7, 1992

His converse clad feet scuffed upon the sodden rocks that cluttered the desolate street. His ghostly white hands were stuffed into the pocket of his gray hoodie. Stan didn’t necessarily take a liking to cold, but it gave him a reason to ditch his usual polo shirt and go for a loose, laid back outfit.

"So I told that fucker that if this would have been a dick-measuring contest I would've won," Richie hummed, having no clue that Stan paid no mind to his boisterous yapping. A thing Stan never knew he did pretty often, someone would strike up a chat with him and after a few minutes if it held no interest to Uris he would unintentionally zone out. His brain digging around about someone. Bill was a lenient diversion from reality. Now and then he'd be spiraled back into existence and profanities would leave his lips. Eddie was the only one who ever noted this; It seems sensible due to his tending to get withdrawn at times. (usually, this happened when Richie wasn't speaking) Eddie had associated to it as a witch-like trance, to which Stanley snorted at that dumb conclusion.

"Ya good Staniel? I lost ya for a minute," Richie quirked a brow expectantly. His coke-bottle glasses drifted down to the tip of his beet-red nose after he averted his gaze down to rest on the honeycomb hued lad. It was uncanny having Richie look down upon Stan, it appeared that just yesterday Stan had towered over him. Four eyes had grown a tad, to say the least, now rising above all the losers. Mike and Bill weren't much shorter than him while Stan only rose to be 5'7 and Eddie nearing the same height.

  
"You haven't been around much," Richie nonchalantly pitched around the topic. Richie discussed the matter like Bill and Stan hadn't been at each other's throats three days ago. Stan appreciated that. He thanked whatever high spirit above that kept Richie from asking him if he was gay and if Bill and he had indeed been hooking up in secret for the past eight months

"Bill is..... is he still seeing that guy?" Stan asked timidly, fidgeting with the collar of his oversized hoodie. Maybe it was just him but he swore it was getting tinier by the millisecond. Clenching around his neck furthermore after he tugged frantically at it.

"You mean the one who's double his age," Richie chortled, his eyes crinkling up at the sides from the wide grin that broke out across his lips.

"Yeah," Stan couldn't restrain the small simper that was smudged against his lips. It had been a long-drawn time since he smiled, it felt good even if it was somewhat forced.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

"Rich, I can't. Just tell me," Stan was nearly begging at this point, it was ludicrous to Richie at how the roles were reversed. Richie has always been the one getting down on his knees and pleading to the beloved bird boned boy.

"Say please, Stanny," Richie taunted, a foolish glow in his orbs drew Stan's attention.

"Please," Stan returned just beyond a whisper. His voice exhaustingly hoarse, he'd spent all last night tossing and turning. Craving the soothing sensation of Bill's partially muscular arms swaddled securely around him. He misses it, more than he should. He misses Bill too.

"I can't hear you!" Richie announced in a sing-song tone.

"Please," Stan quoted flatly.

"One more time my good sir."

"I swear to god, Tozier, don't push your luck with me," the Jewish teen gnarled, exasperation slipping through his words.

"Okay, okay," he capitulated by putting both his hands up in defense, "Yes, he is still with that ancient guy."

“Is he alright?” Stan threw another question at the trash mouth.

“Not that I don’t love being your guys' messenger and all but you both need to sort your shit out and get back to sucking each other off, or go back to just being friends,” Richie ranted. Bill had been nagging all week about, _is Stan okay? Is he still mad?_ And now Stanley was asking a shit ton of questions.

“Wait.. has Bill been asking about me?”

“God Stanley, for being the smartest in the group you sure lose a few brain cells when things come to Bill,” Richie rubbed his temples, “he hasn’t stopped talking about you since you found out that he was fucking that old man.”

“What did he ask?” Stan inquired, anyone could tell he had heart eyes for Bill just from the way he acted so invested in him.

“Go ask him yourself. We are all so done with you two fighting, just go make up already,” Richie using the term 'We are,' to refer to Bev, Eddie, Mike, Ben, and himself.

_Maybe I should ask him? I mean above this all we're still friends, in some way._

\-----

After a few weeks of building up the courage to meet up with Bill, he finally called him up and asked to arrange a meetup.

Bill picked at his fingernail tensely. Perched upon the rock as his eyes followed Stan as Uris paced back and forth. Just looking at him could make you break out into a sweat.

"Why are you even with him?" Stan snarled. The image of Bill and Evan's limbs tangled up in the sheets made his heart lurch forward and beat up against his sternum. It angered him, his toes curling at the thought. He had no right to be mad, after all, he was the one who made it clear that they were just casually fooling around.

"I dunno," Bill paused, he had not thought about it. It was mostly to fill the lonely void in him and to make Stan jealous, although he'd never admit to that, "He buys me things."

"Since when did you take charity," Stan retorted, hearing himself jeer aloud made his eyes roll back with attitude. Bill overlooked Stan's smart ass remark, as he regularly did.

"C 'mon, name at least one more great thing," Stan bet he wouldn't. Call him cocky but anyone else would have given the same answer.

An eerie silence hovered over the December sky until Bill was able to collect something.

"He's not afraid to kiss me on the lips," Bill returned bluntly. Stan witnessed the way Bill's radiant, youthful orbs hollowed to an ebony shade, contrasting with his pallid skin. Stanley's entire body shut down, his bones icing in place. The words rang in the back of his mind, it felt like an arrow had recently been shot through the back of his head.

"Fuck you," Stan grunted, the hostility in his words reflected the harshness in his facial traits. His eyes narrowed, jaw tutted out, and his waterline was rimmed with swelling tears. No fucking way would he let Bill see them slip out, non-willing to supply that bastard the fulfillment.

Stanley brushed the stray butterscotch strands that fell into his face while he was in the process of childishly taking his temper out on a nearby rock by kicking it. He secretly ogled Bill out of his peripheral vision. The brave leader of the losers shakily bringing the lighter up to the cig that hung lazily between his chapped lips. The odor of nicotine raced into Stan's senses. He pondered if Bill's lips tasted like cigars, it seemed logical because there’s never been a moment when Bill wasn't inhaling the smoke like it was cocaine.

Despite them having fucked more times than they could count they'd never kissed. It was an implied rule. Similar to a line that they both non-verbally agreed not to cross if they plotted to keep whatever was going on up. It's not that he didn't want to kiss to Bill, he did. More than anything, but the evil prick in the back of his head kept barking, "you kiss him and you're a fucking fruit."

Uris had never smoked, not even when Bill gave him puppy eyes and begged him to at least try it. Stanley didn't think he would mind if he could taste cigars on Bill's tongue. If it had been anyone else, it would have. It's Bill though, the clever, admirable Bill Denbrough that he'd looked up to since they befriended one another in the third grade.

" I liked you, like a lot. Ever since we turned fifteen," Bill's eyes followed the disintegrating smoke that he had blown out, "I thought you looked beguiling."

Stan jostled down the laugh that began springing from his throat swiftly. Beguiling, Bill did this weird thing where he'd use big extravagant words to describe Stanley. It always made Stan rupture into an infectious fit of giggling. Bill tended to do this whenever Stan was mad at him or sad about something, it always got Stan to smile from cheek to cheek.

"Too bad I didn't like you," Stan lied through clenched teeth, his mood switching just as quick as the weather. The honey-haired boy distinctly evokes all the times he'd been diverted by Bill's soft pursed lips. (dreaming about what it would be like to kiss Bill)   
  
Bill legitimately cackled at that fib, "Fucking hell, Stanley, stop lying. You like me, you always have and you keep telling yourself you're straight but you're not."

"Shut up, Denbrough. I don't like you.... and I am straight," Stan chewed down on his bottom lip.

"You're not straight! But you know what you are, a coward," Bill spat with cruelty. In the span of that sentence, Bill was now facing Stan. Their ruby-red noses inches apart. It wasn't like either of them to be this passive-aggressive, well Bill has always been reckless with his words and he often took his rage out on everyone, this was unlike Stan though. Sure he always acted pissed off however he remained classy. (most of the time)

"I'm not a fucking fag," the words stung his throat as he stated them. It ached like a bee sting, more like a thousand bee stings in the identical spot.

“Wow, Stan. You talk a big game but on the inside, you’re just the weak, scared little Stanley Urine that everyone says you are,” Bill carelessly flicked the cigar onto the floor and squished it with the bottom of his shoe, “you can’t even admit that you’re gay.”

“I’m not fucking gay!” Stan’s anger fueled him far as he launched his fist right into Bill’s nose. The injured one’s head knocked back as he started falling back, tripping over the empty beer bottle that was littered on the ground. That sent him entirely to the grimy floor. Bill’s glove clad hands held his broken nose as thick red blood ran down his chin.

“Hit me again,” Bill challenged from his position on the ground, “prove you’re not a pussy, Uris.”

Bill’s lanky figure splayed out on the floor, he looked like a possum pretending to be dead. Stan obliged to Bill’s request by harshly kicking his ribs. A string of pain-filled groans left Bill’s mouth while he rolled over and clutched his sides. Sure that later when he peeled off his shirt his torso would be decorated with ghastly blue and black markings. Bill figured he would be in a shit ton of pain over the next few days but that didn’t stop the words from flowing out, “do it again, fruit.”

Stan hated the effect Bill held on him, the way anything he said or did could get under his skin so easily. With that he tackled the taller sixteen-year-old, straddling his waist and throwing punch after punch. Red clouded his vision, his fists swinging at Bill’s blood-covered jaw.  
Curse words screaming from his throat, craving a reaction- any reaction from Bill.

“Fight back!” Stan ordered, both hands gripping the collar of Bill’s coat and yanking him close so their lips nearly connected. Bill’s flaming locks of auburn hair were matted and had specks of dirt sprinkled throughout, his ivory skin was drenched in bloody gashes and bruises, and his face held a sick look as the blood trickled down his nose. Stanley was this close to wiping that shit-eating grin off of Bill’s foolish face.

“No,” Bill sighed. His eyes of emerald green softened. Reaching his blood-stained hand up to brush through Stan’s curls. Stanley shamelessly leaning into the loving gesture and allowing his eyes to flutter shut. Bill’s coral lips ghosted over Stan’s, it took every bone in Stan’s body to stop himself from kissing Bill.

“Kiss me and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out,” a voice spat. In one swift movement, Stan shoved Bill down and pressed him to the floor. Bill didn’t listen, instead, the pad of his thumb traced along the jawline of the boy who sat stiffly on top of him.

Stan didn’t respond to that, instead, he brought their mouths together. Their lips collided in sync, it was slow and open-mouthed. Stan yelled at himself that this was wrong but he couldn’t pull away. Stanley hesitated, nearly tearing away but the pleasant unfamiliarity of Bill’s tongue parting his lips drew him back in. After lazily making out Stan pulled away, resting their foreheads together afterward. The small specks of sweat that were dotted on both their foreheads went unnoticed, including their dramatic pants that played as just small background sounds. They were too enthralled by each other's enchanting features to notice anything outside of the two.

“Your hearts beating fast,” Stan mumbled into Bill’s chest. His nose brushing Bill’s neck as he lifted his chin to catch Bill’s reaction.

“Y-Y-Yeah, I.. I know,” Bill stuttered meekly. He had gone to two years of speech therapy but his stutter came out sometimes. Stan wobbly let his lips graze Bill’s neck, trying to soothe his fretful mood.

Mindlessly Stanley tugged Denbrough down to catch his lips in a damp kiss. More hungry and sloppy then before but it held just as much meaning than the one they shared some time ago. During their slow kiss, Bill winced as their noses brushed ever so lightly. Pulling back a wave of guilt hit Stan, his emotions had taken over him. His chest tightened at the reminder of his violent outburst, it would haunt him for the rest of his life.

“I’m sorry…...... and I'm sorry about this,” Stanley hoisted himself up and off of Bill before starting to jog off. His track was cut short due to the tight hold on his thin wrist.

"Stanley," Bill warned, an edge to his voice.

“Bill…. w-w-we c-”

“Stan,” Bill objected, his words tied with a plea.

“We just can’t, not because I don’t want to but because of my dad.”

“I know how hard your dad is on you but you can’t let him control your life,” Bill elucidated. It was true, Stan’s dad was the sternest and most unlovable man to walk the earth. He once had locked Stanley in his room for three days when he caught four-year-old Richie Tozier and his son holding hands.

“My dad is capable of some bat shit crazy things. I don’t want to see him hurt you.”

“I think I can take it, I mean I just survived getting pummeled by the Stanley Uris,” Bill joked, his guffaws were music to Stanley’s ears. The familiar chuckles that filled up his senses caused Stanley to crack a weak smile at the dumb comment. 

"J-Just, please Stan, d-d-d-don't go," Stan blushed rashly. It seemed like millions of tiny fireflies were dancing along his skin as his heart swelled up with elation. He couldn't enjoy that moment long enough before the insults pried their way back into his head. _Flamer, fag, pansy, fruit._

"I'm sorry Bill, but I fucking told that this was just a casual hook up...... you were just an  _ experiment, _ " Stan dusted himself off after shaking off Bill's loosening grip.

"I fucking hate you," Bill said through gritted teeth. Stan swore he heard his heart shatter into a million pieces. He could only imagine that would never be able to pick up and put the pieces back into place. He kept a poker-face, his biggest fear being to show his emotions.

"That's fine," he said blankly, his words expressed no emotion whatsoever, "I'm just going to stay away from you and the rest of the losers for a while," Stan sighed. His lips pressed into a thin line as he scrutinized Bill, the lanky figure searched the Jewish boy's eyes for a sign of any hint as to what he was feeling. Finding nothing he released a silent, defeated huff.

And Stanley did, for a long time. He no longer waved at Ben in the hallway or gave Beverly his chem notes when she didn't do them. And he didn't sneak off into the locker during fifth period to have some fun with Bill. He didn't interact with any of them for that matter. Instead, he spent his school days at  chess club and his weekends down at the synagogue. Things were at a slower pace for Stan, he didn't like it exactly but he was aware that it was for the better. It was hard, I mean leaving behind your friends- family would be hard on anyone. But he knew Bill and him would both overcome it. As they did. A few months later Bill began dating the cheerleader, Audra Phillips. While Stan avoided the whole dating ordeal and focused solely on getting into the accounting college of his dreams. 

Putting aside their fighting, bickering, and overall toxic relationship Stan would always love Bill, and vice versa. Because the fact is, they'll always be shamelessly in love. (Even if they never did and never will admit that lunacy to themselves.)

__   
  



End file.
